


Waste Not, Want Not

by we_remain_together



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Blood Sharing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_remain_together/pseuds/we_remain_together
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If anyone is to teach my brother a lesson, it's me. <i>(for allie)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Waste Not, Want Not

Niklaus watched his brother warily, his eyes tracking Elijah’s every step. He looked, well, a bit pasty. Which was to be expected, given that he’d been desiccating in a box for several months now. If past experience was anything to go by, Elijah had already devised some sort of suitable punishment for his little brother. Elijah could often be a little... displeased with him when he first awoke from being daggered.

This was usually followed up by violence of some kind.

Niklaus braced himself and studied Elijah, looking for the telltale coiling of muscles that would indicate he was about to lunge for him. He watched his brother’s shoulders, watched the muscles move underneath his pristine suit, which despite months lying in a coffin, didn't have as much as a wrinkle in the material.

Typical. His flawlessly pressed, beautiful brother.

To the casual observer, Elijah had looked as he always did. Focused. Controlled. Nevertheless, Niklaus could see the agitation in his movements. Could feel the desperation, the _void_ in his brother as if it was his own.

His mind had long since drifted from Marcellus, who had taken his leave almost immediately.

_Don’t get in the middle of family feuding_

That, if nothing else, was a lesson the boy remembered.

“Well, brother, convinced the little witch to let you out, did you?”

“Indeed.” Elijah’s eyes were piercing, cold.

In all honestly, Niklaus was relieved to see him. He could admit, given the circumstances, that handing Elijah over to Marcel may _not_ have been a strategically sound decision. It had been a mistake. He could recall the shock in his brother’s eyes when he’d daggered him, and it made something like remorse flicker inside him. He’d take whatever punishment his brother intended for him.

Acting instinctively, he dug the tip of his thumbnail into his left wrist, pressing _hard_.

Elijah’s eyes, which had previously been locked unflinchingly on Niklaus’ own, snapped to the blood welling from the gash on his injured wrist. He could see the pulse pounding in his brother’s throat, the muscles twitching as he swallowed.

Niklaus took a tentative step forward, holding his wrist out towards his brother, clenching his hand into a fist and then releasing it to increase the blood flow.

“A peace offering, then? Hmm?”

Elijah made no move to approach him at first. He stood completely immobile, his eyes trailing the stream of blood that was running down the side of Niklaus’ wrist.

Niklaus made — what he hoped — was an encouraging gesture with his still outstretched arm. The movement, however, caused blood from the rapidly healing wound to drip off the side of his hand. His brother was a flurry of motion then, crossing the courtyard in moments, his fingers catching the falling drip before it reached the ground. He snatched Niklaus’ bloody wrist, the wound completely healed now, and their eyes locked.

Elijah’s eyes were crimson, veins moving under his skin.

Niklaus felt his breathe hitch. He wasn’t accustomed to sharing blood with others in such a way. When he was giving something freely because he _wanted_ to. He’d only ever done so with his brother. And his sister. The act, in itself, could be very pleasant, or very painful. It highly depended on the one doing the taking.

Elijah looked a bit... unhinged. Which, typically, was something Niklaus lived for. Any moment when he could throw Elijah off kilter, even just a little bit, was a good day. All the same, seeing the desperation in his eyes, feeling his brother’s fingers digging into the bones of his wrist, Niklaus felt that unsettling remorseful feeling flicker again.

He pulled against Elijah’s tight grip, trying to raise his entrapped wrist up to his brother, in offering. “S’alright.”

Elijah’s lips raised at the corners, but there was no kindness there. His eyes were detached, mocking. He lowered Niklaus’ wrist back to his side, and took a step forward. In one steady motion, Elijah raised his other hand to tangle in Niklaus’ hair, yanked his head to the side, and sank his fangs into Niklaus' throat.

It burned. That deep, searing burn of blood being drawn too fast from the body.

Niklaus closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. His brother was _trying_ to hurt him. And remorse be damned, he was not going to cower to him that easily. Not ever.

Niklaus slide his right hand up his brother’s side, settling at the back of Elijah’s neck, and squeezing. Under his hand, he could feel the rapid movements as his brother swallowed, and there were soft muffled noises coming from Elijah’s throat. Niklaus rubbed his thumb against the soft skin behind Elijah's ear, slow soft circles.

It did the trick. Elijah slowed his pace, less frantic, the grip on Niklaus’ wrist loosing until he was simply pressing his fingertips against where, Niklaus assumed, Elijah could feel his pulse.

He was still drinking deeply, but slowly.  _Much better_. The stinging pain he’d felt previously settled into a more pleasurable warmth. He could feel it spread through his chest, down his arms, down his legs. Languid. Calming. He felt himself getting light headed. It made his skin tingle.

Niklaus laid his hand atop Elijah’s head, fingers moving through his hair, encouragingly. And taking a shaky step forward, he removed the last inches of space between them. He distantly heard a loud hissing sound falling from his own lips. The tight press of their bodies together on his increasingly sensitive skin was, well, lovely. His vision had begun to darken at the corners, and his legs felt sluggish beneath him, like they may not hold his weight.

Presumably, feeling Niklaus' body falling limp in his hold, Elijah pulled back, drawing in a ragged breath and settling with his forehead pressed to Niklaus shoulder.

As he’d expected, Niklaus felt his legs sway beneath him.

His brother straightened abruptly, raising both hands to Niklaus’ shoulders, steadying him. “Easy now, _little brother_.”

When Niklaus raised his head to meet Elijah’s gaze he was met with a wide, bloodstained grin. Niklaus’ blood was dripping off of Elijah’s fangs, off his chin, there was even some staining the skin of his neck. It’d been decades, maybe longer, since he’d seen his brother in such an unkempt state. He smiled lazily back at him, already feeling the prickle under his skin of his blood replenishing itself.

He lifted Elijah’s hand off his shoulder. The hand that, previously, had caught a single drop of blood falling from Niklaus’ wrist. He ran his fingers over his brother’s palm, eyebrows raising in amusement.

Elijah leered at him. “Well, I couldn't very well let it go to waste, could I?”

Niklaus' sluggish brain was a second too late in noticing the abrupt _shift_ in his brother’s expression.

He only had a moment to recognize Elijah’s intent before his brother’s hand slid to the side of his head, and jerked Niklaus’ neck to the left with a **snap.**


End file.
